


Conflict Resolution

by lovetheblazer



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: 5 Times, BB-8 Droid, Banter, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, crisscolfer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5897215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Darren succeeds at using his <a href="http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/post/136096853863/finnsreyy-janel-moloney-darrencriss-and-i">BB-8 droid</a> to win an argument with Chris and the one time he doesn’t. Because <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KBjRUT2yCHU">this video</a> was cute as fuck and Robert is one of the best people I know and he deserves CrissColfer fluff on his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conflict Resolution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caustically](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caustically/gifts).



“Seriously?” Chris glares, looking down at the wet towels Darren’s casually discarded. There’s a large one on the carpet of Chris’s bedroom floor and another smaller one Darren used to dry his hair on the bed.

Darren shrugs defensively. “I only left them there for like, a second. I wasn’t going to leave them forever, so no damage done.”

“Yeah, call me crazy but I’d really prefer not to come home to a mildewed carpet and duvet. Is it actually so hard to hang them up in the bathroom when you’re done?”

“I was a little busy,” Darren huffs.

Given that Darren’s sprawled out on his bed in only his boxers, dicking around with something on his phone, it’s kind of a ludicrous assertion. Chris scoffs audibly at the claim. “Clearly. Very important Twitter business you’re attending to, hmm?” Brian must sense Chris’s grumpiness (like recognizes like, after all) because he hops down from the window seat and starts rubbing against Chris’s ankles soothingly.

“No, I’m not even _on_ Twitter right now. Just trying to figure out how to operate the Christmas present you got me,” Darren explains.

“...which obviously takes precedence over putting away your towels, a task that would take mere-”

The rest of Chris statement is cut off when he’s startled by the BB-8 droid zipping out from underneath the bed and stopping only a few inches away from his feet. His momentary surprise has got nothing on Brian’s response, though. His cat lets out a high-pitched yelp of panic and jumps high into the air at the sight of the toy zooming towards him. Coincidentally, he happens to land directly on Darren’s wet towel still lying on the floor. It’s may just be the best thing Chris has seen all week.

“So, mission accomplished?” Darren manages, eyes sparkling with mirth as he tries to hold back a chuckle.

As Darren catches his eye, Chris feels his annoyance evaporate into thin air and he bursts into helpless fits of giggles. He doesn’t stop until they are both clutching their sides and wiping the tears of laughter from their eyes.

“I hate you,” Chris groans once he catches his breath again.

“No, you don’t. You love the fuck out of me. Admit it, that sight was totally worth having to pick up a couple of wet towels,” Darren says fondly.

“I admit nothing,” Chris insists. It would be more convincing if not for the giant grin on his face. To tell the truth, it was totally worth it. But it’s a secret that Chris fully intends to take to his grave. Darren’s cocky enough as it is.

* * *

Within a month of Christmas, BB-8 gets forgotten about, presumably discarded in the back of their closet never to be seen or heard from again, just like that absolutely hideous sweater Chris’s great aunt knitted him for his birthday. Chris is a little bummed that his seemingly genius-at-the-time gift barely merited a month’s worth of entertainment value, but it’s Darren and a month is probably the longest any gift (that wasn’t a musical instrument) has ever held his attention. It sort of goes with the territory of dating someone who doesn’t know how to sit still for more than a couple of minutes at a stretch.

As it turns out, however, Chris is wrong. BB-8 hasn’t been forgotten about, he’s just being employed for a specific strategic purpose.

It starts when Darren waits until the doorbell is actually ringing to tell Chris that he invited a few friends over to Chris’s house. Worse still, his definition of “a few friends” turns out to be six people. Six people that are currently standing at the front door while a pajamas clad Chris is sprawled out on the couch in a home that hasn’t been vacuumed in two weeks and that has a mess of pots and pans soaking in the sink. Let it never be said that Darren does anything half way. If he was going for the trifecta of ways to piss Chris Colfer off, he has definitely succeeded.

“What’s the big deal, Chris? It’s just my Starkid friends. They don’t care if your house is sparkling clean or insist that you be wearing a tuxedo. They’re just here to hang out and watch TV like we were already doing. Didn’t you say you wanted a night in, after all?” Darren tries to reassure him.

“My idea of a night in is you and me. Not you, me, and every single student that went to Michigan who currently lives on the West Coast,” Chris grumbles. “And would it have killed you to actually ask me if I minded first or even give me a heads up that they were coming?”

Darren shrugs. “If I’d known you were going to make such a big deal out of it, I would have. But I honestly didn’t think you’d care? I mean, they aren’t just my friends, they’re yours, too. I’m pretty sure Lauren likes you more than me at this point, even.” He looks like he wants to say more, but he’s interrupted by the doorbell ringing for a second time.

Chris lets out a heavy sigh. “Just tell them I have a migraine, okay? I’m going to bed.”

“Chris, c’mon, you don’t have to...” Darren trails off prematurely at the pointed glare Chris shoots him. “Do you want me to tell them to go?” he winds up offering instead, his voice softer and more apologetic now.

“It’s too late for that.” He stands and heads towards the stairs, inclining his head in the direction of the front door as he passes it. “Go, you wouldn’t want to keep your guests waiting.”

* * *

Chris tries to sleep after that, but it’s next to impossible thanks to his simmering anger and frustration. It’s made worse with every guffaw of laughter that comes from the living room. Clearly, Darren is having the time of his life without him and Chris can’t help but feel bitter about how little his feelings rate.

He aimlessly flips through the channels on the TV in his bedroom, never staying on any one show for more than a few minutes. He stops when he gets to TCM because he recognizes the movie playing as one of Hitchcock’s classics: Vertigo.

It’s a movie Chris has seen a handful of times before, but he still finds himself being drawn into the familiar story. He’s so engrossed in the various catastrophes befalling Jimmy Stewart’s character that he completely forgets all about Darren entertaining his friends downstairs. That winds up being a blessing and a curse. Mostly, it’s just really bad timing that Darren chooses that exact moment to come upstairs to make his peace with Chris.

Chris hears a soft, tapping noise coming from the closet and senses movement out of the corner of his eye and lets out a shriek of terror.

Darren comes rushing in to investigate. “Chris? Honey, what’s wrong?”

Chris clutches at his chest as his heart races and his mouth goes dry with fright. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and forces himself to peer over the side of the bed to locate the source of the noise. He sees BB-8 rolling around on the ground below, making a curious beeping noise. “You have got to be kidding me!” he groans once he realizes what’s happened.

“Oh, um... my bad?” Darren manages, looking from Chris to BB-8 several times and biting his lip to hold back laughter.

“You asshole! I thought there was a serial killer in my closet,” Chris yells. He picks up the nearest decorative pillow and throws it directly at Darren’s face as hard as he can.

“...okay, I probably deserved that,” Darren replies calmly. Something about the juxtaposition between the way Chris still feels like he’s about to have a heart attack and how placidly Darren reacts is way funnier than it should be. Chris snorts and buries his face in the duvet, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Chris feels the bed dip as Darren sits down beside him. “Laughing or crying?” he checks.

“Laughing,” Chris mumbles.

“You’re not like, having a stroke or something, right? Because that was a pretty fast descent from screaming to hysterics,” Darren wonders aloud, his voice thick with amusement.

“Was it?” Chris asks, turning his face so he can peer up at Darren. “Gee, I wonder why.”

“So, I guess I picked the wrong moment for the triumphant return of BB-8? And here I thought you’d be happy to see him.”

“That’s what he said,” Chris jokes.

“Still mad at me?”

Chris considers lying but it feels like a lot of effort. “Mad is almost beside the point, especially when you just shaved a good ten years off my life with that simulated cardiac arrest.”

“Next time I’ll make sure you see BB-8 coming, okay?” Darren vows. “Because I’m going to need you to live a long and healthy life, assuming you can put up with my inconsiderate ass for the next fifty to sixty years.”

Chris smiles at the thought. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

* * *

“That’s it, I officially forbid you from ever having a beard again,” Chris snaps as he wanders into the kitchen and reaches for the coffee.

“Um, you’ll have to take that one up with Ricky I’m afraid,” Darren responds warily.

“No, not that kind of beard, idiot. The one on your face.”

Darren chuckles. “Well, in that case, you’ll have to take it up with the other founders of The Motley.”

Chris shoots him a skeptical look. “There’s no way your facial hair is spelled out in a contract. Hollywood may be a weird, looks obsessed place, but even it isn’t that shallow.”

“Don’t be so sure. They just happen to be more forgiving of writers than performers.”

“Darren, The Motley sells razors and shaving cream and aftershave. If anything, they’d prefer you clean shaven. And for once, I’m in complete agreement with them.”

Darren’s eyes widen in recognition. “Oops, my bad,” he apologizes.

“Okay, but if you can recognize now that you forgot to rinse your stubble out of the sink after shaving, then why couldn’t you have just... not left it there for me to find in the first place?” Chris asks. Even he isn’t sure if it’s meant as a hypothetical or a legitimate question he needs an answer to.

“It wasn’t intentional. I was just half asleep and hadn’t had my coffee yet, so my brain wasn’t fully engaged.”

“I’m not sure if your brain is ever fully engaged,” Chris grumbles.

“I’m going to ignore that because I recognize that you haven’t had your coffee yet and thus, aren’t fully responsible for your words,” Darren says evenly. He grabs his phone and clicks a button, before glancing down at his feet. “C’mon BB-8, let’s go tidy up the bathroom before the big bad man stomps us both to bits.”

“BB-8 is totally on my side, I’ll have you know,” Chris calls after them. “He likes to keep a clean ship.” BB-8 makes a series of excited beeps, almost as if in reply. “See,” Chris crows triumphantly.

“Traitor,” Darren hisses to the tiny droid. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to train him to clean up after me, Roomba style, one day.”

Chris laughs. “The day you manage that is the day I buy you ten more.”

“You hear that, BB-8? You might be getting some little brothers and sisters before long!”

* * *

“Hey, did you miss me?” Darren asks as he pounces, literally falling on top of Chris on the bed. Thankfully, Darren’s not all that heavy.

“I did until you decided to knock all the air out of my lungs. Thanks for that,” Chris groans and shoves Darren off of him.

“You’re very welcome!” Darren replies cheerfully, no trace of irony in his tone. “Did you like all my zoo pictures? I wanted you to feel included since I knew you were sad you couldn’t go.”

Chris glances down at his phone. He doesn’t see any unread text messages. “What pictures? I didn’t get any.”

“I sent them through Snapchat, duh,” Darren explains. He leans in and hooks his chin over Chris’s shoulder, watching while Chris navigates to the app.

The first Snapchat is a picture of a spotted jaguar. Underneath, Darren has captioned “he’s got the moves like jaguar.” Chris snorts.

The second one is a video of a lion stalking across the front of an enclosure and Darren’s written, “don’t listen to a word he says, he’s totally lion.” Chris groans, because he’s starting to see a theme emerging and he’s not sure if he likes it.

The third is an adorable picture of two panda bears clinging to stalks of bamboo. The caption reads, “total panda-monium here at the zoo.” Darren laughs at his own joke. Chris does not.

“How many of these are there altogether?” Chris asks warily. “I can only take so much.”

“Excuse you, these are hilarious works of art,” Darren huffs. “And um, there are probably less than ten more?”

“Five is my limit, sorry.”

“Five more or five total?” Darren wonders.

“Total. You get two more,” Chris explains.

Darren sighs dramatically. “Fine, then skip to the last two. They are my favorites.”

Chris rolls his eyes but does as commanded. The next video is of a polar bear swimming through a pool with the caption “have a feeling this Snapchat will be pretty polarizing.”

“Get it, Chris?” Darren asks, literally bouncing a little with excitement.

“Of course I do, idiot. It’s not like the height of wordplay. Shakespeare you ain’t,” he chastens.

“Hey now, no need to get testy,” Darren whines. “You might be singing a different tune after the last one, though.”

“Doubtful.” Chris clicks on the last Snapchat in the series, pulling a face as he sees two large iguanas that appear to be... spooning. Or possibly something grosser that Chris doesn’t really want to think about all that closely. Over the picture, Darren’s written, “Iguana tap it, but I have a reptile dysfunction.”

Chris giggles helplessly. “Okay, that one was kind of funny, I’ll give you that,” he admits.

Darren pumps his fist in the air. “Success! I really missed my true calling in life.”

“I wouldn’t quit your day job just yet,” Chris teases. “I don’t think pun generator is an actual job description, anyway.”

Darren sighs in mock distress. “It really should be. I would be amazing at it.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out his phone. A second later, BB-8 comes scurrying out from underneath the bed.

“Hey, hey Chris,” Darren calls out.

“Can I help you?”

“Is BB hungry, do you think?”

Chris frowns. “Um, I... have no idea? Do you feed it robot food at night or something?”

“No, I don’t need to, because BB-8. Get it, Chris. Like, he ate,” Darren beams, looking way too proud of himself.

“I told you I only had the tolerance for five puns. That makes six,” Chris glares.

“But it was a different kind of pun?” Darren tries.

“Nope, doesn’t matter. You overstepped your bounds. You’re in big trouble,” Chris warns, trying to sound even vaguely menacing.

“How can you stay mad at this face?” Darren pouts, gesturing to himself. He leans over the side of the bed and plucks BB-8 from the ground. He holds it up right next to his cheek. “How can you stay mad at both these precious faces.”

And goddammit, even though Chris sees it coming a mile away, he still laughs. Hard. “Guess I can’t,” he grins.

* * *

“Seriously, come on!” Chris shouts at no one in particular as he roots around in the fridge. Not only has his last Diet Coke mysteriously vanished, but so has the leftover Pad Thai and spring rolls he was planning on eating for lunch after a long morning of writing. He’s pretty sure he knows the culprit to blame: Darren.

He slams every cabinet open and shut noisily as he tries to find something semi-edible to eat, leaving Cooper cowering in fear under the dining room table. In the end, the best Chris can do on short notice is a can of Campbell’s Cream of Tomato soup and some stale pita chips. It’s not exactly the delicious meal he’s spent the whole morning looking forward to. Still, he knows he’s partially to blame for letting his stash of writing essentials get so low in the first place. He always stress eats when he’s got a big deadline.

Instead of getting mad, Chris decides he’ll get even, just this once. When Darren returns home, he’s greeted at the door with BB-8 who has a note taped to his front.

_Dear Darren,_

_I’m sorry to report that I’ve been kidnapped and rigged with explosives. Unless you want me to be killed or horrifically maimed, you will need to pay my ransom no later than 8 pm Pacific to my hostage-taker (who shall remain nameless). Just know that he has ways of making me suffer and you pay, ways that should terrify you to your very core. See the reverse for his list of demands._

_Help me, you’re my only hope._

_Yours in friendship,_

_BB-8_

On the other side of the paper is a grocery list with a twelve-pack of Diet Coke at the top of the list.

Naturally, Darren pays up and BB-8 lives to fight another day.

* * *

One of the most persistent sources of conflict in Chris’s relationship with Darren is the introvert versus extrovert dilemma. Compromise is important, sure, and has gotten them through some really tough times, but it’s not always a perfect solution. Sometimes neither person wants to compromise and that has to be okay, too. Tonight’s one of those nights.

Darren’s spent far too long being cooped up at home thanks to the horrible weather and is obviously starting to get cabin fever. Chris has a touch of cabin fever, too, but for an entirely different reason: Darren and his ADHD tendencies are driving him absolutely insane. He needs a break from Darren and his inability to sit still. He needs peace and quiet. He needs several hours of uninterrupted writing time. Most of all, Chris needs Darren to get the hell out of the apartment before he winds up strangling him. So in that sense, their needs are perfectly aligned.

However, just because Chris demanded some downtime doesn’t mean that he isn’t still thinking and worrying about Darren. The worst of the nasty blizzard may have passed New York over now, but there’s still a good foot of snow blanketing the ground outside and not all of the roads and sidewalks have been plowed. At 7 pm, Darren left, promising he’d only be gone for a few hours. Chris is so absorbed in his writing that he doesn’t even check the clock until 10 pm. At 11 pm, he starts to worry. By midnight, he’s called Darren a good half dozen times and he’s nearing panic.

Darren doesn’t get home until half past one.

By then, Chris is a wreck, vacillating wildly between terror and blind, incoherent rage. When Darren stumbles in the door, drunk, loose-limbed, and cheerful, Chris isn’t sure whether he should hug him or hit him.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Chris gasps, his voice shaking. “I was two seconds away from calling the cops.”

Darren frowns, wobbling as he tries to kick off his loafers. “I went out like you told me to?”

“You said you’d only be gone a few hours. It’s been six and a half and there’s the snowstorm of the century happening outside. Not cool, asshole.”

“It’s not that late, is it?” Darren slurs, looking down at his bare wrist and giggling when he realizes he’s not wearing a watch.

“It’s 1:30 in the morning,” Chris spits out, his tone venomous. “Why didn’t you at least answer your phone? Or text me to say you’d be late?”

“It’s dead,” Darren explains. “Forgot to bring my battery pack. Are you mad?” He wanders over to the couch and collapses onto it, regarding Chris warily.

“No, I’m not mad. I’m fucking furious,” Chris breathes.

Darren pouts. “Aww, don’t be mad, baby. I know just how to fix it.” He digs the phone out of his pocket and hits the button several times in a vain attempt to turn it on. “Oh, right. It’s dead. Hang on, just gotta grab my charger,” he mumbles.

“Don’t bother. It won’t work, even if you charge it.”

“But BB-8 always works,” Darren sighs. “He makes everything all better. He’ll make you better, too.”

“Yeah well, not this time. I took his batteries out and hid him, so you’re going to have to face this argument all on your own like a big boy. Can’t have a droid fight all your battles for you,” Chris chokes out.

“Oh,” Darren trails off, seemingly lost for words.

Chris sees the opportunity and takes it. “Do you not worry about me? Because I worry about you all the time and I’d never want to put you through the hell of the last few hours if I could help it.”

“Of course I do,” Darren replies instantly. “I just... lost track of time. It wasn’t intentional, but I get it. I wasn’t thinking about your feelings and that was a dick move.”

“Yeah, it was,” Chris agrees. “And...?”

“...and I’m sorry?” Darren guesses, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“And...?” Chris prompts again.

Darren furrows his brow, lost in thought. After a moment’s pause, he stands and walks over to Chris, sitting down on his lap. “And I want to make it up to you.”

“It’s a nice sentiment,” Chris huffs out, shivering as Darren trails his fingers lightly up his sides. “But how?”

“By bringing you breakfast in bed tomorrow morning,” Darren offers.

“And?”

Darren leans in and kisses Chris, slowly and deliberately. “And getting you coffee every day this week.”

Chris sighs against Darren’s lips, tangling his fingers through his hair. “And?”

Darren huffs out a tiny laugh. “Um, and making sure I never, ever scare you that way again?”

“Now you’re talking.” Chris lets his thumb trace the line of Darren’s jaw. “One more thing I’m going to need you to do.”

“Oh?” Darren smiles wickedly, obviously anticipating a certain kind of task or favor. “What’s that?”

“I’m going to need you to promise me that you’ll never, ever use our tiny, droid child for evil instead of good again. No more conflict resolution via BB8, okay? As far as you’re concerned, he’s Switzerland.”

“Aww c’mon, Chris. He’s so good at it!” Darren pouts. “But I guess you leave me with no other options.”

“None at all.” Chris leans forward and kisses Darren one final time. “Alright party animal, let’s put you to bed.”

“Can BB-8 come, too?” Darren requests as he’s tugged to his feet with Chris’s help.

“Nah, BB-8 needs to stay asleep so the grown-ups can have some alone time,” Chris hums against Darren’s lips.

It’s a good night.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic comments are the highlight of any author's day and I'm certainly no exception to this. If you wanted to take a moment to tell me what you thought about this story, that would wonderful! Thanks for reading :)
> 
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